


A Bird Cannot Love Freely When Caged

by Gemini_Genie



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory Negotiations, Romance, Zukaang - Freeform, zukataang, zukoxaang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemini_Genie/pseuds/Gemini_Genie
Summary: There have been feelings simmering underneath the surface between Aang and Zuko since long before he joined Team Avatar. Emotions have come to a head now the war is finally over and injuries (for the most part) have all healed. The world is in a prolonged mode of celebration, and Zuko pays a visit to Ba Sing Se to try to get the ball rolling on peace negotiations as the leader of the aggressor nation. King Kuyei and his generals aren't quite over all the partying yet though, and he ends up getting to have a little post-war celebration of his own with friends.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Aang/Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94
Collections: Zukaang





	1. Earth Kingdom Summers

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written for Katara in my past two fics, and I want to rectify that. I really want to explore the relationship between her, Zuko, and Aang, but her thoughts on her relationships with these two isn't 100% fleshed out in my mind yet. I hope you all enjoy this and upcoming chapters!

That the world should be more chaotic than it had been before wasn’t something that had occurred to Zuko. For the few months he’d spent with team Avatar he’d labored under the impression that balance and peace were things easily restored once his father and sister were defeated.

He thought it would be easy to win Mai back, to transition into his role as Fire Lord with a clear mind and set of objectives. He thought that after their battle with Azula and their prior expedition to help her get revenge on the man who killed her mother—that Katara would warm up to him. Be friendlier and more willing to talk and joke with him. Such was not to be though. Even after taking a lightning strike to the chest for her, Katara still seemed to only tolerate his presence. And Mai...Mai was still angry with him about the letter he’d left behind. Taking it as a break up even though he’d never penned those exact words. 

Looking around at the goings on in the streets of Ba Sing Se and his own Capital City back home, Zuko feels small. Irrelevant despite all he’d done to make such a raucous celebration possible. Invisible despite the golden, fire shaped crown poking up out of his ponytail. Marking him as Fire Nation royalty to all who passed. Or at least that’s what it was supposed to do. Not a soul seems to care though, and he stares in disbelief at the wanton behavior of King Kuyei’s court. 

People are running around everywhere from the lowliest servant to the most highly ranked courtiers. Drinking, dancing to an impromptu band and laying on their sides on provided chaise lounges to smoke opium, the dabblers eyes all reddened and glazed over. 

He had thought...coming here so soon after the fighting would be looked at as a sign of the Fire Nations desire to be apart of peace negotiations. But no one came to greet him when he showed up. Not even King Kuyei who he spies over by a table of hastily prepared horderves. Flanked by simpering, fan waving women wearing an extraordinary amount of makeup and noticeable lack of clothing. 

Face heating up at the sight Zuko turns away, customary frown deepening as he pushes his way out through the crowd. As he exits the great hall entrance, he reaches up and plucks the golden hair ornament out of his hair, stowing it in a pocket. So there would be peace negotiations. At least not today, which meant he didn’t need to saunter around in the heavy fabrics of his Fire Lord garb all day. His underclothes had started to stick to him before he was even fully dressed, and it’s a relief to be able to whip off the red velvet cape and shoulder cover when he’s back outside in the fresh air. 

The front of the palace is almost as crowded as the inside, and there are almost no guards around. No Dai Lee. No soldiers. At least none who seem interested in keeping order. They link arms with the common people. Sing loudly, drunkenly, and it’s easy to see the spark of joy in their eyes. Happiness at a dream realized after 100 years. The war was over, and peace was possible now the Avatar stood victorious--a bridge of political, spiritual and social support for all the nations. For him...Zuko was sure...should he need it. Should he ever feel confident enough to show that kind of vulnerability to Aang. 

He hadn’t been there for the battle between Aang and his father. Just got a brief play by play from Sokka in passing as they all went their separate ways. Then, hours later, received his father as a prisoner via Aang and Appa. Encased in stone still in various places across his body, the bonds that held him were not taken away until he was caged and the door closed. It was a side of either of them he’d never seen before. Ozai limp in his bonds, a trail of spittle leaking from the corner of his mouth down his chin, eyes wide, wandering and fearful. Aang, normally jovial and smiling under even the most stressful of circumstances, stood silent, the coldest expression Zuko had ever seen on the other boy's face. Which, at the time, Zuko thought said a lot about the nature of the fight between the two. He had fought and tried to capture Aang for a year prior to becoming his teacher...and not once had he ever seen him look like that. 

Hoping he’d stay, Zuko had offered Aang a guest room not too far away from his own chambers. Thinking he might like to rest after such a fierce battle, that...maybe they could talk for awhile about something that didn’t have to do with fighting, the war, or the past, he followed Aang out of the prison housing Ozai all the way to the Capital City’s docks where Appa and Momo lay in wait. Floundering through the conversation half-way through and giving up, letting the other boy fill in the gaps, Aang’s demeanor changing almost as soon as they are out of the stone walls surrounding the prison. 

“I appreciate the offer Zuko, but I promised Katara I’d come right back after...you know”, he said, yawning, emphasizing his tiredness. Making the bags under his eyes much more apparent. The cuts and bruises over his face more noticeable. 

“I see...well can I get you to at least visit our chief doctor before you go?”

Aang smiles, looking up at him, saying nothing for longer than is comfortable. For Zuko at least, and flustered he throws up his arms in consternation. 

“So is that a no?!”

“Yeah. It’s a no. I have to go back to Ba Sing Se...at least for a little while. I’m sorry.”

He’d reached out to touch Zuko then, laying a hand on his forearm, squeezing softly, still smiling that smile. Looking up at him through his eye lashes as if he was using them to obscure whatever message he was trying to send. Make it harder to discern, but Zuko thought he knew, and the thought of it sends a pang of sadness shooting through him.

He had to go back to Katara, and Zuko, as a good friend, was obligated to let him. No matter how badly he wanted him to stay. 

Things gradually quiet down as he gets farther away from the inner sanctum of Ba Sing Se. He’d rented a small cottage, not far from his Uncle Iroh’s tea shoppe. Zuko had been forced practically to bring servants with him and he was in no hurry to get back, not feeling like being fussed over and questioned constantly about whether or not he was hungry or tired or wanted a hot towel or anything. They were fearful. Paranoid, as their lives under his father and Azula hadn’t been exactly easy. There was always the threat of bodily harm or banishment, and...as badly as he felt for them he was tired of being looked at like an unhinged despot. 

As he crosses over one of many bridges watching the couples and party-goers celebrate in their chosen fashions, loneliness begins to creep over him, and he wishes he could be wherever the rest of team Avatar is. Just…’hanging out’ and doing whatever it is normal people his age do. Stuff like...dancing and playing pai-sho. 

Or was that just what Uncle did for fun?

What it was exactly teenagers do for fun late at night isn’t something Zuko has to wonder about for long. Just as he’s rounding the corner of the street his cottage rests on, he runs into a very sweaty and disheveled Sokka. His dress robes are wrinkled and spotted with what looked like wine or some kind of punch. 

“Sokka?”,he says, stepping closer. He regrets it instantly, nose scrunching at the pungent odor wafting off of him. Somewhere in between a brewery and recently shat in toilet. 

“Heeeyyyy Zuko!”

“Uh...hi. Are you okay?”

“M’ good! Just going for a little beer run with moneeeyyy we got!”

No. Sokka was not okay. He was drunk. Drunk ask as a skunk and equally terrible smelling. Behind him, a couple houses down was a cottage that looked similar to his. Music wafts down the street towards them, light shining out of every window. 

Someone in there, Zuko notes, his pride welling up despite him, is someone playing a mean tsungi horn. 

“How’d you get money?”, he asks, looking back towards the half there water tribesmen. He’s wobbling and looking closed to falling over. Zuko steps nearer so as to be able to catch him if he does. 

His lips spread into a small smile, thinking of the rest of the gang inside equally as inebriated. 

“King gave it t’ Aang. Something about paying for future security of the Earth Kingdom. Aang wasn’t cool with it for some reason but I told him—!”

“King Kuyei paid Aang?”, Zuko asks, incredulous, the annoyance he felt earlier creeping back in. Kuyei had had enough time to see and try to bribe Aang—but couldn’t remember the fucking Fire Lord would be visiting?! And what’s worse is the disrespect of the title of Avatar. Of Aang’s selfless contribution. He was a being of light. Of spiritual goodness and was there to help bring the world to balance. Not be a hired hand for whoever had the most gold!

“Yeah man!”, Sokka responds throwing his hands up, arms falling back to his sides with a slap, a goofy grin on his face. “We got them coins! Literally!” 

“Okay...well mind if I crash the party?”, he asks, the annoyance he feels clear in his voice. Sokka shakes his head enthusiastically, reaching out and grabbing Zuko by the wrist. Turning and dragging him off towards the lit up cottage surrounded by rose and jasmine bushes. 

Inside is a dirty, ramshackle version of what it’s supposed to be, with various papers, food containers and bottles on the floor. In the center of the receiving room stands Toph, tapping her foot to the beat of music being played by a very tired looking band, clothes so soaked in sweat it looked like someone had draped them in wet sand. Sokka lets go of Zuko as soon as they are through the door and goes to join their mutual friend on the makeshift dance floor, waving his arms at the bandmates in an effort to get them to play faster. A metal box half-filled with ice water sits next to the couches and lounges, a few bottles of what he suspects are Fire Whiskey floating in it. Maybe one or two spiced lychee drinks, and, feeling sweat begin to bead on his own forehead, he reaches in and grabs a bottle as he walks by. Popping the top off with a flick of his thumb. Enjoying the icy coolness in the palm of his hand.

He doesn’t need to drink it to cool down. His body would do that anyway once it got to a certain temperature, but he decides to take a swig anyway, sighing in relief at the feel of the lychee juice, spiked with rum, filling the inside of his mouth with its sweet flavor. 

There’s no sign of Aang of Katara, Zuko notes, looking around, and despite his best effort not to be, he’s unnerved by their absence. Heart picking up its pace when he spies their shoes piled over one another underneath the coffee table. Things get even more uncomfortable when he looks up, back over at the dance floor where Toph and Sokka are still merrily dancing, Toph looking at him over her shoulder and grinning. 

“Need somethin’ Zuko?”, she asks, and compulsively he takes another shot of his drink, plopping onto one of the couches and pulling his feet up. Customary scowl back in place. 

“Twinkle-Toes and Katara are a little busy at the moment. But they’ll be done soon, and then I’m sure they’d both be happy to see you!”

“I didn’t ask for all that information Toph! I just came to see what all the noise was about over here!”

She stares at him with her sightless eyes for longer than he wishes she would, and every second that goes by puts him in a frostier mood. Why exactly he isn’t sure. He’s not upset with Toph. Or Sokka. Not really, and the anger he felt at finding out the Earth King had tried to bribe the Avatar had ebbed as soon as he’d walked in the door and looked over the trash strewn floor and sweaty drunken faces of the bandmates giving it their all in the corner to entertain their patrons. With Sokka and Toph in control of whatever money Aang had been given...this was about what he’d expected to find. Minus a hiccuping Momo on the couch next to him, slumbering soundly. 

If he listens...really listens he can pick up voices from down the hall leading to the bedrooms. Quiet, hushed voices that sounded like a great effort was being made to maintain that volume. Was that Aang and...Katara? Was it Suki, Aang, and Katara? Maybe another Kyoshi Warrior that had stopped by in the midst of all the partying? 

A door opens, quick and sharp, and Zuko’s ill-understood need for what was going on behind said door to be innocent is dashed when he hears Katara calling out. 

“Sweetie? Are you sure you’re okay? If I hurt you I’m sorry. Are you going to come back...soon?”

“I’m not sure. But it’s not you Katara--I promise! It’s just so warm. I wanna go out and get some fresh air. I’ll probably just walk around a while and see what kind of festivities people have going on.”

The last one was Aang. 

Zuko grimaces at the word ‘sweetie’. Were they really calling each other that? 

There’s more said. A few more words whispered, and then the door closes, barely there footsteps making their way down the hall towards the living room. Seconds later Aang is there, silver-grey eyes scanning the room and finding him. Face lighting up, and it’s the first time in a long time since they’ve seen each other that Zuko feels complete. 

His face heats up and he knows the tops of his ears have reddened. He hears Toph giggling somewhere in the background, but suddenly...suddenly he’s lost all capacity to care.


	2. Two If By Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scene just before...and a little *after* Zuko arrives at the teams cottage in the Earth Kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's come to my attention that some people might be put off by the fact that I haven't laid down any ages for the ATLA gang in this story. Or anything I've written for that matter. I had assumed that everyone reading would also assume I had just aged up the characters for the purposes of the story. I apologize if I made anyone uncomfortable. I've just sort of re-written and commandeered parts of the ATLA lexicon for my own purposes, so going forward, look at everyone involved here as being a legal adult. Aang is around 19. Katara is 21, and Zuko is the oldest at 23.

Katara...was beautiful. Stunningly so, Aang thought as he watched her quietly practice her bending on the small ornate pond in their backyard. Turtleducks, small crabs, and lizards scurry underfoot in an effort to escape what must be to them the wrath of some vengeful spirit, but she is fluid and graceful enough in her movements that she easily avoids them. Long, chocolate brown hair, lean limbs, and pleasingly curved hips sway with her movements.  
Her joy radiates from her. It’s infectious, and Aang doesn’t bother trying to keep himself from interrupting her. Doesn’t bother to remind himself to not air walk as he is wont to do. Hovering over to her silently, feet only just skimming the tops of the grass. An illusion of walking he had been employing since he was a child. Aang isn’t thinking, and reaches out to touch her, lips curling into a small smile as his fingers brush the skin at the back of her exposed waist, frightening her unexpectedly and getting him a water whip to the face for his negligence. 

It stings. Stings bad and he thinks he might even be bleeding—feeling something warm dripping down his cheek and curling to the underside of his chin. He doesn’t stop though. Doesn’t choose to not reach for her, and pulls a frazzled and apologetic Katara into his arms. 

“Aang you scared the shit out of me! Spirits—are you alright?! Your face!”

“I’m fine sweetie”, Aang replies, mind so full of her he isn’t able to focus on anything else. Doesn’t want to, and in a moment has her face cupped in his hands, brushing his lips against hers. 

“It doesn’t hurt all that much. I just wanna kiss you. Can I?”

Katara’s response is slow and uncertain, her left hand coated in healing waters hovering nearby. A blush stains her cheeks when his lips brush hers and the tense expression she’d been holding dissipates. Fingertips knead into her lower back, massaging the bundle of muscle there, and sighing, Katara brings her arms up, wrapping them around Aang’s neck. The cut on his cheek unnerves her, but she lets it go, the look in his eyes taking away her focus as she leans in, pressing her lips against his and closing the distance between them.

Their mouths meet and a warmth ignites within her she hasn’t felt before. She had seen Aang without clothes on before, generally speaking. In his little brown loincloth when they swam, or when they trained together, learning waterbending alongside each other, and many more times after that when he trained with others or was injured. Especially when he was injured. Which in the past year and a half had happened so many times she lost count of all the moments she’d wept over him as he lay unconscious. Doing her best to try to heal what ailed him. 

Once upon a time in this very city she’d watched him die in front of her. Die, and in that moment he’d looked as small and fragile as the tiny animals that trailed after him in the forests they traveled through--grateful for the Avatar’s presence and protection. Protection that for a long time Katara felt obligated to provide to him as his friend, Master, and eventually, lover. 

Thinking of those moments makes her cling to him harder as they kiss, nails pressing little red crescents into the skin of his neck. Chest pressed so firmly to his that it’s hard to breathe. He seems to enjoy her desperate clawing and squeezing, and in an instant, his tongue slips past her lips, a soft grunt escaping him when she angles her head to try to meet him half-way, matching his enthusiasm. Their tongues meeting and playing against each other in a dance that never ends. Doesn’t end because Aang takes control. Using bending to breathe for both of them. Relenting only to pull back and nip sharply at her lower lip. 

Foreheads resting together, a moment of reprieve between them, blue eyes stare back into silver-grey and they rock together, holding each other. Fireflies winking in out of the cloudy darkness around them. 

“That was some kiss…”,Katara says, smiling softly, face burning. “What made you think of doing...what you did? With your bending?”

“I don’t know. I just knew I didn’t want to stop.”

Aang leans in, kissing her again. Just a peck before pulling away, eyes sliding closed.

“I still don’t wanna stop.” 

“Hmm...then why did you?”, Katara asks, nuzzling him, a laugh rumbling up from in her chest. 

Aang slides his hands the rest of the way down Katara’s back, over her rear to the spot just at the beginnings of the backs of her thighs, pulling upward, lifting her. She wraps her legs around him, snaking her arms through the inside of his dhonka and flattening her palms against the upper muscles of his back. Muscles that feel much harder and sturdier than she remembers. Like iron almost, and for a brief moment, Katara loses her predilections of him as a soft creature in need of protecting, squeaking with pleasure when his teeth scrape against a sensitive area of her neck. 

They had kissed before, but not like this. Never this deeply, or passionately, and the part of Katara that was still shy and virginal explodes into a pillar of flame that settles in her stomach and crackles pleasurably through the rest of her. Was it...joy of the war and battle with Fire Lord Ozai finally being over that spurred them on, or was it something that had been there all along? This tension in her gut she’d felt time many months ago the day of the invasion when Aang kissed her on one of the submarines. Was that the first time she’d ever really looked at him and considered the possibility of now? Of a future where her body and mind were in agreement with each other about their feelings for the monk? Had that not been the thought that’d crossed her mind a couple weeks ago when she’d kissed him on the veranda at the Jasmine Dragon?

“It seemed...right to?”, Aang breathes in her ear, raising goosebumps on her skin, shooting more of that familiar fire into her belly. He sounds unsure now, some of the confidence he’d had in the beginning slipping away from him, and Katara shakes her head, cupping his face in her hands. Cradled in his arms she whispers back to him, pressing her hips upward into his abdomen, feeling her underclothes start to stick to her.

”It’s okay, silly! I was just trying to flirt with you. I...want to keep going. It feels nice.”

That was the precursor to how they ended up in the dark rolling around over Katara’s sleeping bag, grinding their hips together, and struggling to get out of their unwanted clothing. Aang’s erection is pressed to her inner thigh, the crotch of her underclothes darkened with her wetness. Aang unties her sarashi, or tries to, fumbling with the knots and ties in the dark before finally relenting and shyly asking Katara to help. Tips of his fingers playing over her ribs just underneath.

“Light me a little fire”, she says, and when he does, extending a finger with a little pillar of flame atop it, she’s surprised despite having asked for it, how immediate the action is. He had still seemed afraid and hesitant with his firebending when last she had seen him use it. Now he flicks his finger and lights rooms upon request, she reflects, and wonders if it’s Zuko’s tutelage or a change in attitude that’s made things easier for him.

She decides it must be the latter as she watches him watch her. Katara relieves them of the burden of her wrappings, breasts spilling outward once they are gone, face growing hotter if that was at all possible. Aang hardly blinked, taking her in as she’d always imagined, in her fleeting teenage fantasies, that her future husband would. Pure want and admiration in his eyes.

Aang rests his head between her breasts, nuzzling them, and every once in a while, blows a cool breeze over them to watch the spectacle of her small, dark nipples rising at his whim. Listening, with a not unnoticed smirk on his face, to Katara’s panting as he kisses his way down her stomach, tracing the shape of her belly button with his tongue. 

“When did you get so..”, Katara breathes, reaching down to try to touch him, and missing, Aang thinking to himself the right thing to do then was to move out of reach of her grasp, sitting up between her quivering legs. Smiling cheekily down at her.

“So awfully sure of yourself?!”, she snaps, mildly frustrated with his teasing. 

Aang looks back at her, guilt clouding his features, reaching out to caress the tops of her thighs. That look of confidence that had been making Katara wetter and wetter over the last half-hour melts, and she instantly regrets snapping at him.

“I really don’t know if all of what I’m doing is good for you or not. I’m just guessing. I’m not trying to upset you…am I?”, he asks. 

“No, Aang. I just…”

Katara breathes a sigh, blue eyes looking down in between her own legs. Teeth sinking into her lower lip worriedly. She wanted to be touched, but wasn’t sure how to communicate that to him without embarrassing herself or seeming too needy. Despite feeling like she was about to burn to ashes lying here under his gentle gaze. 

“Touch me “,Katara whispers, and at first, he’s not sure what she means, capacity for thinking clouded by arousal and emotional feeling. Has he not been this entire time? 

Then she grabs him by the wrist, pushing his hand down in between her legs, past the waist of the cloth that covers her, pressing him against the soft, wet folds that make up her core. His mouth drops open in a silent gasp, and for a few seconds Aang doesn’t move, just leaves his hand where it is, listening to her quiet whimpers as she rubs herself slowly against him, desperate for a release he wasn’t quite sure how to get her to at this level. 

Instinct was all there was, and is what Aang acts on when he begins to rub her back, pressing harder, sliding his hand up and down the length of her. Curiously circling his thumb around a little nub he feels that has Katara arching sharply up into his hand. Moaning so loud it’s almost a scream, and he feels compelled to kiss her to swallow the sound. 

His cock aches between his legs, but he doesn’t reach for Katara’s hand as she did his, choosing to just deal with it later. More interested in her pleasure than his own at the moment. Marvelling at how soft, warm, and wet she was, liking the feeling of the slickness coating his hand.

Katara ends up laying on her side the next few minutes that pass, one leg lifted and held open by Aang for easier access to her center, a finger slipping inside. He presses his face to the back of her neck, moaning quietly at the feel of her walls squeezing around him, and—eyes closed tightly, rutting into her backside...he fantasizes.   
Imagining another pair of hands roaming over his body the way he’s roamed over Katara’s. 

Warm almost too warm calloused hands push their way aggressively past the barrier of his clothing. Wrapping themselves around his needy cock and squeezing hard until it hurts and he begs to be let go. Precum leaking from his tip aids in the process of pleasuring him, and just when he’s almost there...stops...uttering words that at first, confuse him. 

“I didn’t ask for all that information Toph! I just came to see what all the noise was about over here!”

Katara is shaking. No...spasming almost in response to the way he touches her, thumb and forefinger lightly pinching the little bundle of nerves he’d discovered early on in their session. He knew...next to nothing about female anatomy. Save for the fact what he’d seen of it he found enticing, and he was grateful to have been able to discover a part of it that could bring about so much satisfaction. Pushing not one, but two fingers inside of her, Aang slowly toys Katara’s sodden opening, nibbling the back of her neck as he does so. 

“Oh! Oh Aang stop! Stop please! It’s too much—!”

She was just so wonderfully sticky, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He keeps going for a bit. Even when he feels her hand circle around his wrist to pull him away. He was still hard, painfully so, but he tried to put it out of his mind, breathing in and out slowly, pulling his hands out from in between Katara’s legs once she really started keening and pulling away. Lifting his wet fingers to his lips and tasting what was there. 

“That...was good for you?”, he asks, and feels his face heat up in the dark when she nods fervently against him. 

“It was amazing. But...what about you? You’re still--.”

“I’m fine sweetie. Don’t worry about it”, he says for the second time that night, and Katara’s brow furrows. She tentatively rubs herself against him, his still stiff member twitching in response, and sighs, a hint of frustration in her voice when she speaks.

“Aang...please let me.”

Silence. 

It’s Aang’s turn to furrow his brow, and he blows air through his nostrils, the unintentionally bended air blowing Katara’s hair. He wanted to let her. But he also desperately wanted--no needed the vision in his mind's eye. That other set of hands touching him while he touched her. He wanted...Zuko, and Katara, and had for a long time, not knowing how to reconcile it with either of them. With himself. 

“I can’t Katara. Not right now. It’s just...I just wanted to make you feel good. Because I love you.”

“But you don’t want that from me…?”, she asks, and he can hear the rejection in her voice.

“I do! I just need time to...figure some things out. Please don’t think I don’t want you.”

More silence, and then, “Okay Aang. I trust you.”

He thinks in that moment she understands, that she forgives him, and when finally he’s able to move without a raging hard-on getting in the way, he does so. Sitting up and kissing Katara on the cheek, Aang redresses himself the best he’s able in the dimly lit room, and then stands, making his way towards the door. 

“Sweetie? Are you sure you’re okay? Are you going to come back...soon?”, comes Katara’s voice from behind, and he turns to look at her over his shoulder, half smiling. She’s laying on her back on the floor still, brunette hair fanned out around her head. Blue eyes full of concern and post-coital bliss, naked save the trappings of her loincloth twisted around an ankle. 

“I’m not sure. But it’s not you Katara--I promise! I justI wanna go out and get some fresh air. I’ll probably just walk around a while and see what kind of festivities people have going on.”

“Okay. Have fun.” 

And with that, he slides the door shut quietly behind him, walking down the short hall and out into the living room. He finds Sokka and Toph still dancing to the beat of the live music they’d requisitioned with the money he’d gotten from the Earth King. Then...then there was Zuko. Sitting on one of the many lounges in his Fire Lord get up. Most of it anyway. The cape and pointed shoulder pauldrons had been taken off and discarded on a nearby arm chair. 

Their eyes meet, and Aang can’t help but smile, face turning a darker shade of red than it had been just moments before he’d come out, thinking of the hands wrapped around the lychee drink bottle on him instead. 

“Your Fieriness.”

“Avatar”, Zuko says, smiling back, mock bowing from his seated position.


	3. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara contemplates her feelings on Aang's relationship with Zuko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that the way I'm handling the story isn't coming across as tedious. I just thought it was important, since the relationship eventually becomes poly, to include Katara's feeling about everything. Hope you all enjoy! I'll get the 4th chapter as soon as I can!

Katara gets up from the floor after a little while and redresses herself, listening to the voices and jolly music playing outside the door. She couldn’t believe Sokka and Toph were still going after all they’d drank. That they were still standing even, and she felt worse for the band, thinking she’d just go out and dismiss and pay them soon. You could practically hear the exhaustion in the tsungi horn players tempo. 

Above all that though, she hears Aang and Zuko’s voices and tunes into them, brow furrowing. They were happy to see each other, as expected of friends who’d just fought a war together, but there was something else. A tenderness and familiarity in how they spoke to each other that made her...what? 

Uncomfortable? Jealous? 

_“Your fieriness.”_

_“Avatar.”_

They even had pet names for each other.

‘Cute I guess’, she thinks to herself, working to re-tie her sarashi, lips pursed.

Katara had known a long time about the feelings between the two, or rather, Aang’s feelings for Zuko. He had confessed them to her months ago, before the invasion when Zuko had still been a bitter enemy of theirs. And then, as now, she’s having a hard time understanding the hows and whys of Aang’s complex emotions surrounding the Fire Prince. Fire Lord now. Not only a comrade in arms, but someone Aang was going to have to work with diplomatically in the future. Someone that by all accounts he has every reason to be resentful of.

Katara herself had still not quite forgiven Zuko for a lot of the things he’d done, despite the sacrifice he’d made for her in their battle with Azula. Despite his willingness to help her reconcile the death of her mother by giving her the man who committed the murder. All of that was good of him—commendable even, but she’ll never forget the day his sister murdered Aang in front of her. And then Zuko went home the triumphant hero, living in the lap of luxury for all of the six months Aang lay in a coma. And for longer afterwards, as he hobbled around on board their stolen Fire Nation ship, broken and sad.

Not knowing all the details even still today, Katara has a vague idea of why Zuko let things go the way they did for so long. His family life, from what she could gather having seen his sister Azula...was complicated. Complicated, dangerous, and tragic. The fact he hadn’t reached out to his Uncle even once for help in all the relatively short time he’d been on the throne was a wonder to her. Especially seeing as how his coronation hadn’t exactly been well received by many in the Fire Nation and outer colonies. Maybe it was a pride thing. Like everything seemed to be with Zuko, and frown deepening, Katara slips quietly out of the room. Walking to the corner end of the hallway, she presses her back against the wall and listens. Hoping Toph would be decent enough to not rat her out. 

Peeking around the corner she spies them sitting together on the couch, sitting close. Closer than she’s ever seen Aang sit next to anyone save for her, their heads bent in towards one another in whispered conversation. Zuko’s arm...curled over the back of the sofa around Aang’s knobby shoulders makes her shiver in a way she neither understands or wants to. At least not right now, for the longer she watches, the more her mind plagues her with questions and assumptions about what they must be talking about. The chief thought among the mass being, ‘Why him Aang?’

Nothing they do after that though clues her into his reasoning, as the two of them rise from the couch just a couple minutes after she arrives and leave, walking close together. Close enough the backs of their hands brush when they walk. Watching them go Katara feels a wave of emotion crash through her. Jealousy. Anger, and a familiar but not unpleasant tightness in her chest seeing the way they look at each other just before the door slides shut behind them. Aang’s silver-grey eye’s alight with mischief and some of that arousal he’d walked away from her with. Zuko’s uncertain, but soft, and honest as always. 

Stepping out from her hiding spot, Katara sighs and walks over to the little corner where the band plays, waving her arms for them to stop. Then picks up one of the many small pouches of gold coins sitting on a nearby coffee table, laying it gently into the hand of the lead player whose face splits into a grateful smile. 

“Katara the killjoy”, Toph says, throwing up her short arms in mild protest, sightless eyes looking off in no particular direction. “You never wanna have any fun!”

“Oh hush Toph! These men have been here for hours and they’re exhausted! Plus you and Sokka have had enough for one night. I get everybody is excited and all but there’s going to be plenty to do in the future still.”

Sokka walks over to the chaise lounge Zuko and Aang had been sitting on moments earlier, flopping face down onto smooth, jade green cushions. “The future isn’ now though”, he says, and guffaws into the couch at his own wit. 

Katara ignores him, and shows the band out, bowing and giving thanks for their performance as, one by one they duck the door. Sokka started snoring less than a minute later, and not knowing what else to do now Aang was gone and Toph and Sokka’s party had been successfully snuffed out...Katara started to clean. Moving quickly, tersely around the room picking up empty bottles and trash. Throwing it all into the little paper basket, too small to be anything other than decorative. Still, she manages to get at least half the trash into it, and then sits down on the floor with a huff, legs crossed.

Toph had not moved from the spot she’d been standing in the entire time, and Katara is unnerved by the sight of the earthbender’s pale eyes staring over at her. Burning a hole into her skull. 

“What?”, she asks, folding her arms across her chest, looking up at Toph through her thick lashes. She could sense some of Toph’s own brand of Sage wisdom coming and she wasn’t sure she wanted to stick around to listen. “Why’re you staring at me?!”

“Well...I’m not staring at you perse”, Toph answers, turning, finally moving from the spot she was in towards her. Coming to lay down in front of Katara on her side, propping her head up in her hand. “I’m blind remember?”

“You know what I mean Toph.”

“You just seem like you need t’ talk is all”,the young earthbender says, letting out a loud, foul smelling belch that has Katara fanning away the air in front of her, nose wrinkled in mild disgust.

“I’m fine Toph, but thanks”, Katara says, looking off, holding in a sigh. Talking sounded nice. Like the good and sensible thing to do, but what she was feeling wasn’t something she thought Toph would have a whole lot of knowledge about. She’d never shown interest in anyone save for Sokka, and everyone, including Toph herself knew, that with Suki holding his interest that was likely to go nowhere.

Katara doesn’t speak on that though, and Toph being Toph, doesn’t take no for an answer. 

“That’s what Aang said too. But he wasn’t fine, was he? I could feel how hard his heart was beating.”

Head snapping around in shock, Katara opens her mouth, and then closes it, teeth clenching. Anger rising, but then she sees the quiet, contemplative look on Toph’s face. There’s no laughter in her voice as she continues to speak, reaching out a hand in Katara’s general direction.

“It’s not just my seismic sense I see with. I have a pretty good sense of hearing, too. And unfortunately none of you guys has ever been particularly good at keeping quiet when you’re trying to have your private time. So...yes. Before you even ask me, yes. I did hear Aang finger banging you in there. Sounded like you were having a pretty good time until he wanted to leave.”

Katara stares, the emotions reflected in her blue eyes somewhere between about to burst and non-existent. She lets out the breath she’d been holding, not really knowing what to say to all that other than the on-the-nose truth as she knows it to be. 

“He told me he likes Zuko”, she says, and at the grimace settling over Toph’s face she can’t help but laugh, feeling instantly better for it. 

“He didn’t like...whisper that to you and I just didn’t hear it...did he?”,Toph asks. You can just about hear the outrage bubbling up within her, and again Katara laughs, waving her hand and shaking her head no. Forgetting Toph couldn’t see either of these gestures. 

“He told me that months ago. Almost a year ago in fact. I’ve known for a long time. It just..hasn’t bothered me until now. Things are different. Or are going to be different anyway.”

Sokka’s snores grow louder, his deep breathing raising him slightly off the cushions with each inhale. Katara considers being nice and carrying him to bed. Tucking him in and leaving a packet of pain-relief tea by his bedside. But fuck it. She was worn out. Physically and emotionally from all that had recently transpired, and she lays on her back on the floor next to Toph, fingers laced over her flat stomach. 

“I get the feeling Zuko likes him too”, Toph says, and Katara nods, thinking maybe she’d be able to feel the movement through the floor.

“Yeah. Me too. He never takes his eyes off him when we’re all together. It’s like he’s scared if he looks away Aang will disappear. Sometimes I think it’s cute. Other times...I dunno.”

“So you’re okay with them wanting one another?”, Toph asks, brow furrowing in confusion. “You don’t feel threatened by Zuko at all? He definitely feels threatened by you…”

Toph smirks, and Katara, eyeing her, frowns at the last bit of her statement. “No he doesn’t! At least he shouldn’t. Not in that way. If he likes Aang and wants to be with him too, I wouldn’t say no. I just…”

“You just what Katara? Quit beating around the bush!”

“I don’t feel like he deserves Aang okay?! He’s done so many awful things in the past Toph!”, Katara says, huffing and throwing her hands up to the ceiling in frustration. Aang was so...good. So sweet and kind and Zuko had only just scratched the surface of those character traits she felt, his permanent scowl and abrasive tone making it hard to take any gestures of kindness from him seriously. 

“What is it exactly you feel like he needs to do to prove to you he is worthy?”, comes the question Katara had been avoiding asking herself ever since Aang had first confessed to her his feelings. From the day she’d first realized Zuko harbored similar feelings, having been watching them at Zuko’s abandoned family vacation home all those months ago. The Fire prince sitting behind Aang as he readied himself for meditation, tentatively reaching out to rub the tension out of Aang’s trembling shoulders. 

That he would even think of touching him in such an intimate way had infuriated Katara at the time. But then she remembered what Aang told her about the way Air Nomad’s had lived when they’d been around. What he’d told her about himself, and the morning after when she woke up snuggled into a single sleeping bag with him, all the resentment had washed out of her instantly. The two of them staring into each other’s eyes as the sun rises behind them, silhouetting Aang’s wiry frame. 

“I love you, Katara”, he’d said.

And she believed him, as she does now. 

She just isn’t sure she’s willing to share that love with someone she hasn’t learned to fully trust.

Having thought on her answer for as long as seemed appropriate in the midst of a conversation, Katara’s turns her head towards Toph who is finally starting to look tired from all the drinking and dancing. 

“I want him to come out and say how he feels about Aang. Not keep him a secret to appease the nobles and dignitaries he’s going to be working with. I want Zuko to be as proud of Aang as I am, and cherish every moment with him. If he can’t do that...if he can’t let Aang fully into his life the way he would expect to be, then I won’t agree to it. Aang is not a concubine for him to call and dismiss at will.”

“I think that’s fair, mostly”, Toph says, a look of mild concern on her face. “But I think there are ways for Zuko to include Aang in his life without their having to be a political scandal. Keep in mind Katara, Zuko is royalty. King of the aggressor nation in a hundred year long war! How do you think people are gonna look at him and Aang traipsing around everywhere together holding hands? Not to mention the fact that same-sex relationships are outlawed in the Fire Nation, and not exactly a topic of popular discussion here in the Earth Kingdom either.”

“So it’s okay for King Kuyei to just throw money at us in an attempt to buy Aang? But not okay for Zuko to love him in public?”, Katara snaps.

“That’s wrong too Katara! You know what I mean! I’m not saying your heart isn’t in the right place or that I don’t agree fundamentally with what you’re saying. Just that you need to remember the world isn’t all black and white like that. Aang is the Avatar. Zuko is the Fire Lord. They have responsibilities as the Avatar and the leader of a nation. You have to take that into account when you think about them having a future together.”

Sighing deeply, Katara shuts her eyes, feeling the pull of sleep and the warmth of the pallet she and Aang shared. Toph wasn’t wrong. She knew that, but wished, more for Aang than herself, that things didn’t have to be so complicated. Save for Zuko they’d all been teenagers when they met. Why was it they were stuck dealing with all the world’s trials and tribulations?

“I guess”, she says, sitting up and yawning, looking back toward the front door, wondering where Aang and Zuko were now. Toph sat up too, stretching until you could hear joints popping, then standing. 

“I just want Aang to be happy.”

“I’m sure Zuko wants that, too”, Toph says. “I know he’s done some bad shit Katara...but you and I both know he’s changed a lot since the last time he was our enemy. Just give him one more chance to prove to you he’s changed for good, yeah?”

An image of the two of them sitting on the chaise lounge from earlier crosses through Katara’s memory. Aang and Zuko sitting close enough that if either of them leaned in just a bit further, their lips would’ve touched. 

“Yeah”, she says, nodding, standing up, ready for bed. “One more chance.”


	4. The Sainted and Holy Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang gets a glimpse into Zuko's private life back in the Fire Nation. Things don't go quite as smoothly as he'd hoped in the beginning.

What it was they’d been talking about that had led them to Zuko’s cottage a couple houses down, Aang can’t remember. They are standing in the foyer together, the younger, hairless monk transfixed by the sight of Zuko shaking his hair out of his ponytail once the ribbon comes loose. Stuffing the bit of cloth into the waiting hands of the elderly attendant standing in front of him. He takes his cloak too, and the pointed shoulder armor, bowing low with said garments under his arm. Sliding backward out of sight and into...wherever it was Zuko’s fancy royal garments were kept. 

The Fire Lord yawns and looks Aang’s way, cheeks reddening when he realizes how intently he’s being stared at. 

“Let me get out of these hot clothes, and then we can talk”, he says, quickly stepping out of sight of Aang’s too bright, too focused eyes, bumping his valet aside in his haste, “Yi Liang will prepare tea and lead you to--.”

“I know where the dining room is Zuko”,Aang replies, cutting him off, and old Yi Liang looks like he's going to faint at the audacity of it. He nearly does when he hears his Lord’s sigh of exasperation just feet away from him behind the half-closed door to his chambers, the temperature rising in the small space by at least two degrees when Aang let’s loose with a string of quiet laughter. The sound echoing strangely in Zuko’s ears. 

“Maybe I wasn’t going to _say_ the dining room. Don’t laugh at me.”

“Where were you going to say?”

The only visible part of his friend he’s able to make out is a booted foot on the threshold. A pale, well-manicured hand on the edge of the screen door, which, after an awkward silence is slammed shut, startling Yi Liang. Silver-grey eyes meet weathered, golden, heavily circled ones and Aang grins widely at the older man. Yi Liang who goes from foot to foot, confused and frightened, unsure of what decision to make in light of Zuko’s hasty exit.

He’s dressed richly, as one would expect a royal valet to be, but there are things about him that just don’t seem in line with...servitude. At least not as Aang has experienced it, and his smile fades when he notes all the old scars littering the man’s neck and wrists. Little circular burn marks, faded with age. 

Zuko didn’t smoke. Or at the very least Aang had never known him to, and even if he did...Zuko wasn’t a cruel man. He wouldn’t do this to someone. Which makes Aang wonder why out of the hundreds of attendee’s Zuko had at his disposal--he chose this one? A man who seemed to jump every time he heard a floorboard creak.

“Yi Liang? Can I call you Yi?”, Aang asks, breaking the silence, jerking the elderly man out of his fear imposed stupor.

“Oh! I--you may call me whatever you wish Avatar Aang! It’s an honor to be in your esteemed presence!”,Yi Liang quavers, and Aang tries hard to keep smiling, edging past him into the living room, speaking aloud as he does so.

“Don’t worry about making the tea, Yi. If you’re feeling tired, why not lie down and rest? The Fire Lord and I can serve ourselves. I make a decent pot if I really try.”

Yi Liang says nothing, and Aang hears nothing behind him for what feels like a long, uncomfortable amount of time. Looking back over his shoulder he spots the older man standing in the center of the living room staring at him, eyes wide and tearful. Shivering as if in great distress. 

“Oh but the Fire Lord...he asked me to--.”

“I really don’t think he’ll mind Yi…”, Aang tries to reassure, turning, unconsciously floating his way over to the man, now truly concerned. He doesn’t have to be for long though, as a moment later, Zuko steps out from the darkened suite of rooms he occupies, dressed in his usual red and gold garb with short sleeves. He’s barefoot, having chosen to leave behind his boots, and Aang’s face falls further. 

He’d been hoping after tea he could convince Zuko to go out and walk the streets with him. Maybe pop into a tavern or two. Have some fun for once, but it doesn’t seem as if he’s in the mood for that, coming to stand in front of his very frazzled manservant, a gentle expression on his face.

“Avatar Aang is right Yi Liang. We’ll be fine on our own. It’s okay if you disregard what I said earlier. You’ve done very well in my service today. Sleep for the night.”

Fingers knitted together anxiously, the old man looks between the two of them, smiles wanly and nods, bowing his way out of the room again away from them. The door to the foyer sliding shut once he’s through it. Aang holds the line of questioning he has, following Zuko into the kitchen, both of them nearly starting out of their skins when they come face to face with another of Zuko’s servants. A lady, not quite as old as Yi Liang but no less in a hurry to please, bowing profusely as soon as she lays eyes on them.

“No no no! Don’t _do that!”,_ Zuko practically screeches, hands coming up to cover his tomato red face, shoulders shaking almost as much as the knees of the woman in front of them. 

It’s all so...different from what Aang expected that he just stands there. Silver-grey eyes wide with emotions he has yet to place, watching the display before him. 

“I’m so...sorry Fire Lord Zuko. I didn’t mean to upset you…”,the woman begins, but falls silent when Zuko shakes his head, taking his hands from over his face.

“Just go to _bed_ Yenay. You’re not required to do anything for me if I arrive after midnight. Understood?”

She nods, and probably would have bowed herself out as well if Zuko didn’t stop her, waving a hand to indicate the non-necessity of it. He doesn’t open his mouth to speak until he hears the soft wump of the woman’s body hitting her mattress, the squeak of the springs grating on his nerves almost as much as the constant bowing and scraping before. 

A hand, cool to the touch...almost too cool...rubs soft circles into his lower back, and Zuko feels a tingle run the length of his arm as feeling begins to return to his hands. Hands he hadn’t realized were clenched and shaking at his sides. Knuckles white with the strain. It feels good. The rubbing, but Zuko can’t allow it to continue, reaching behind himself and grabbing Aang’s wrist to stop him, jumping a bit when he feels the airbender’s fingers close themselves around _his_ wrist in turn. Pressing his thumb hard into the pulse point there. 

“You don’t want to be here”, Aang whispers, much too close to his ear, and Zuko’s breath catches in his throat. 

Snatching himself away he walks over to the little pot bellied stove and lights it. Opening the small door and shooting in a blast of flame that...that...catches _nothing_ because there’s no fucking _wood_ inside. 

“For Agni’s _sake_!”, he yells, slamming the iron door, and Aang looks on worrying his lip with his teeth as Zuko makes a mess of the small space. Kicking a dent into the stove and burning the dusty, left behind doilies to ash on the shelf they rest upon. Throwing left out glasses into the wall, shattering them one by one until he loses patience with that and rips the entire cabinet off the wall, muscles straining with the effort. Dumping out every piece of porcelain inside and might have skewered his feet walking over all of it if Aang didn’t intervene, wrapping an arm around his middle and pulling him back out the kitchen door into the living room, tears streaming down his pale face. Nose almost as red as the shirt he wore. 

“I’m sorry Zuko...I should’ve asked if it was okay to...touch you that way”, Aang says, pushing Zuko gently into an armchair, voice tinged with regret and embarrassment. Silver-grey eyes shining like pennies in the dim lighting. He’d just wanted to make Zuko feel better. Calm him down and get his mind off a situation that was very clearly having a negative impact on him. And had only succeeded in making it worse. By being too greedy with his affection...giving Zuko more than what he’d ever said he was comfortable with. 

Indeed, the attraction between the two of them was more an accepted unspoken truth than an established way of being. Something that, ever since their training with the Sun Warriors they’d allowed to slip gently into their social routine’s with one another. Never quite crossing into the more intimate, romantic territory Aang longed for, and had nothing but the occasional look from Zuko when they were alone together as evidence he wanted it too. 

“You seemed upset with what was happening and I just wanted--.”

“It’s because I _was_ ”, Zuko interrupts, after several minutes of what Aang assumes is silent fury, the young Fire Lord reaching up and wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. Sniffling loudly, not caring if he’s heard. “I _was_ upset at what was happening. I was never angry with you. And you’re right. I _don’t_ wanna be here.”

Aang stares uncomprehendingly, brow furrowed, looking between Zuko and the slightly cracked kitchen door. He can only just make out the small, squat form of the woman Zuko had called Yenay slipping inside from her room. The sound of glass being swept into a pile greets their ears a moment later, and finally, Aang understands. The hell the Fire Nation had wrought on the world hadn’t just extended to the other nations. It had gone inward, too, with the abuse and brainwashing of royal servants like Yi Liang and Yenay. Pain that Zuko, while not necessarily personally responsible, had to figure out a way to purge from his household and nation. 

“I can help”, Aang offers, but it is a hollow statement, his heart dropping into his stomach as soon as the words leave his lips. He can’t, really, and he knows that. His knowledge of the Fire Nation and its people is 100 years out of date. 100 years out of touch with what it had morphed into under past Fire Lords. 

Zuko knows it too, and doesn’t respond. Just looks up at him, eyes puffy. Nose still red from crying. 

“Can you get my shoes, please?”, he asks, “I’d like to go out instead.”

“Of course, Your Fieriness”, Aang says, grinning, mock bowing, and Zuko wants to be annoyed, but just doesn’t have the energy anymore, rolling his eyes instead.

“Less talky, more fetchy”, Zuko says, waving Aang away, and when he disappears down the front hall to his rooms, Zuko breathes what’s probably his 80th sigh of the night, sagging into the couch cushions. 

He'd have to come up with a way to make it up to Yenay later. Yi Liang, too. Maybe if he took them out to dinner while he was here and stayed in town to give them a couple days leave to explore the city they’d be less inclined to think he wanted to bully. and put cigars out on them like his father had.

  
  



	5. The Sainted and the Holy Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang and Zuko finally get around to working out their feelings for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for this final chapter being so long. I don't know what it is, but for some reason outside of RP I have the hardest time sitting down to write smut. I got through it though, and I hope you enjoy the chapter regardless. Thanks you for all your kudos and kind comments!

Ba Sing Se’s upper ring was more alive than Zuko had ever remembered seeing it when he’d been here before. Playing at the idea of new life working in his Uncle’s tea shop. It was the wealthiest part of the city and thus where all the most important people lived, the king included. His palace overflowed with what appeared to be party guests. People of castes and social standing dancing and cheering, toasting each other with crystal glasses full to the brim with golden, frothy champagne.

He and Aang pass by about a half hour into their walk,hands loosely twined together. Both too shy to hold tighter...to stand closer now they were out in public. Not that anyone of them had been particularly brave before either. There’d been a lot of want between them for a long time. The two of them had been dancing around it literally and figuratively for more than a year. 

Zuko keeps his gaze ahead, face burning. Knowing he’s being watched by the man walking alongside him, golden eyes reflecting the happenings in front of them like a mirror. Aang’s eyes, silvery-grey, shining like polished pennies—see only Zuko. 

‘How do we start?’,Aang asks himself as they get nearer and nearer the gate of the first of the outer walls. ‘What do I say to him?’

Just before they reach the gate, they pass in front of a lively looking bar, tucked into the ground floor of a three story building. The smell of spilt beer and cooking food wafts out to them from inside, and eyebrows raised in silent question, Aang bumps Zuko’s shoulder with his own to get his attention.

“Wanna go in and have a couple of drinks? Celebrate?”, Aang asks, and Zuko shrugs in response, taking a step towards the crowded front door. He let’s go of Aang’s hand just as they slip inside, sort of tossing it away as if he were reluctant to be holding it in the first place. The small rejection stings, but Aang doesn’t let it show, knowing Zuko well enough to know it isn’t personal. 

The place is full to bursting with people of all shapes, sizes, and nationalities mashed in on top of each other trying to get their needs met. Some stand in front of the bar with their arms outstretched—empty glasses in them waiting to be refilled. The atmosphere is hazy with tobacco smoke and it’s hard for Aang to make out some of the more shadowy figures on the perimeter. But none of them appear to have bad intentions as far as he’s able to tell, so he lets it go, pressing himself into the crowd of drinkers along with Zuko. 

There’s one bar tender. One. For a crowd of thirty or more and Aang looks up and down the length of the bar incredulously, not quite believing what he’s seeing. One, lone, elderly man hobbles backwards and forwards pouring different colored liquids into empty cups that pop up again seconds later. The bodies that surround them are sweaty and reek with alcohol, and never having drank before, Aang begins to rethink his decision to come here, watching as the man next to him quietly vomits into his friends hat.

Zuko, for his part, is remarkably cool about the whole thing, not giving the heaving mass of people around him a second glance as he brushes his hair out of his eyes and hops over the bar. He'd been in busy bars too many times in his young life to be put off by it now, and ignoring the protests of the elderly bartender, grabs two glasses and proceeds to drop a few chunks of ice into them. He's just about to drop a couple of limes in when he remembers there's about 40 or so people on the other side of him that want drinks too. Some of whom have already started mistaking him for a back up.

Thinking it wise not to linger too long Zuko turns back around to the shelf and grabs a bottle of the most familiar looking thing. Then digs around in the money pouch in his robes for a moment, feeling for what seems an appropriate amount before dropping it into the hands of the tender and leaving, sliding back up over the bar and through the crowd with his iced glasses and liquor bottle. Aang follows, brow furrowing when he sees him headed for the door.

"I thought you wanted a drink?"

"You wanted a drink, remember? And I bought one, but I don't wanna sit in there. It's too noisy."

"You bought a whole bottle..."

"And? You let Sokka and Toph buy a live band with that money the Earth King gave you."

"Zuko...I told King Kuyei I didn't want the money, but he gave it to me anyway! He was drunk and happy just like all these people!", Aang says, raising his voice an octave and gesturing to the people running past them. Men, and women--some young, some old. Some so old that as they hobble past, eyes milky white with cataracts--Aang wonders if the joyous expressions on their wrinkled faces are genuine. If they are even able to comprehend how the world around them has changed. If they know that they no longer have to be afraid of the world outside the walls they're caged within.

"Whatever mood he was in you shouldn't have accepted it. You realize how that would look to the other nations if anyone found out about it?"

They are walking again, back towards where they had just come from, and Aang sighs, throwing his head back in exasperation as things gradually begin to get quieter in the streets around them. This wasn't how he'd expected for things to go after...after the fiasco in Zuko's cottage an hour ago. They'd walked out holding hands. A loose imitation of it, but still. He’d really been hoping for something more than a scolding. 

He's almost certain Zuko’s going to take him back to his cottage. To the tea room where they’ll sit down and have a more formal conversation about his lack of foresight. But then he feel's Zuko's hand tugging at his wrist. Pulling him in an opposite direction. 

"If the ice melts can you refreeze it?", Zuko asks, looking over his shoulder, sharp, golden eyes glowing in much the same way Aang's pale, silver ones do at night. The lamp light gives them a sort of metallic sheen. That they had that in common Aang had never noticed until now.

"Do turtleducks quack?"

Zuko hands him the bottle he'd snagged, and Aang almost drops it, paying more attention to the warm hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Make it cold but don't freeze it."

"Does this mean we're done talking about politics for the night?"

Zuko has no answer for that, and Aang groans as he's pulled along, dragging his feet like a child being taken to school. Zuko is nervous. Nervous and scared and he hates that. Hates those words having been taught that they are synonymous with weakness. The logical part of his brain tells him there’s nothing to worry about. That his feelings for Aang are normal, valid, and good. That he’s deserving of the return of said feelings.

"Oh! The tea shop! Why didn't you say you wanted to come here before?", Aang asks, standing too close for comfort as always, and Zuko lets go of him so he can fish the spare key Iroh had given him out of his pocket.

"I didn't know I wanted to at first", he admits, shrugging, pushing open the front door and slipping inside. Aang follows, and before he even has a chance to ask, a lantern in the center of a table not far from him flickers to life, lit by his much shorter, balder companion.

Zuko watches as Aang rounds the table and sits the bottle of baiju down. The glass frosted over from it's time spent in his hands, waves of cold mist floating off of it. He can't help but smile, staring down at the lantern and admiring the confidence Aang had gained in the fire bending department. Confidence he had helped him gain. It hadn't been long ago all he could do was blow out little puffs of smoke.

A loud creak and a thump as Aang slumps into the nearest chair snaps him back to the present, and he takes in Aang's folded arms and deep frown.

"I'm ready for my chewing out 'Oh Mighty Fire Lord'."

Zuko rolls his eyes, sliding one of the two glasses across the table toward Aang before finding a chair of his own to sit in. Clearing his throat and pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts. Reaching out for the bottle and uncorking it as he does so. The water around the half melted ice in the glasses appears to sort of...vibrate for half a second before refreezing. Aang shaping the water in them into...hearts.

Zuko opens his mouth, then closes it, deciding not to comment, much to Aang's disappointment, pouring the clear, sharp smelling liquid over them and the limes he'd put in.

He makes eye contact with the monk for the first time since they'd left his house, heart skipping a beat when he notices the very becoming blush staining his cheeks. The little freckles on his nose and the thin, pale battle scars lining his arms.

He was so delicate and pretty up close. Not hard and rugged as benders were expected to be in the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom. He wonders guiltily if all young male air nomads were like this at Aang’s age. A mixture of passive and direct power.

"So...about the whole Earth King paying you thing", Zuko begins, taking up his glas, swallowing a healthy amount, "I know now doesn't feel like the time--."

"Nope", Aang agrees, leaning back farther in his chair, bringing his own cup with him, propping his feet up on the table.

It’s Aang's turn to take a drink, and Zuko swallows down a laugh when he does, watching as his face pinches together like he's just licked a lemon. 

"You can't...or I should say you shouldn't accept gifts from any ruler. No matter who they are or why they're giving it to you. As the Avatar you're supposed to be a neutral force for good in the world and people might take it the wrong way."

The limes in Aang's glass he notices...are unsqueezed. The particular part of Zuko wants to reach inside and squeeze the juice from them so the baiju will taste better. So Aang'll be less disgusted by it.

"I only accepted the money for Katara and Sokka's sakes! It's not like they're rich or anything! I thought they could take some of it back to their tribe to help with recovery efforts there. I'm sure you remember the Southern Watertribe. You know. The tiny tiny village of old people, women, and children you were prepared to--."

"Aang please..."

The hanging lantern post above Aang's head begins to slowly sway, and when Zuko again lifts the bottle of baiju to pour himself another drink, he notices it rippling. Sloshing more than a liquid being poured out of a bottle should. Droplets crawling their way up out of the glass--literally sliding up the sides.

"And if I let Toph and Sokka buy a few drinks and pay some people to play a little music--so what?! What's wrong with that?! What's wrong with being happy--treating my friends to a little fun after everything that’s happened?!”

Aang is yelling. Literally yelling at him and Zuko stares, a mixture of emotions reflected in his eyes. He had never seen him angry before. Never seen his lips pulled back from his teeth like that or the white in the knuckles on the hand gripping his drink glass. He’s as transfixed by it as he is his Avatar State transformation.

"It wasn't my intention to come across as if I was scolding you Aang", Zuko says, "I just wanted to make sure you understood how precarious things are right now. How one slip up could mess up everything! Not everyone in the Fire Nation wants me on the throne ---and for fucks sake will you please calm down?!"

Aang is standing, fists balled. Fully prepared to rage at Zuko. To really tell him off for making him think he was finally ready to talk. Ready to admit that he'd felt what Aang had. He opens his mouth to let fly the nastiest insult he can think of, and then...he sees himself reflected in the glass of the Baiju bottle. Face red, nostrils flared. Hanging lantern above his head swaying maddeningly in tandem with the energy radiating from him.

Aang's power as the Avatar both terrified and enthralled Zuko. Zuko hadn't been there to see the fight between Aang and his father, but Sokka's retelling of it gave him a good mental image of how it had all gone down. He could see Aang in his mind's eye, tattoo's glowing with that eerie white light. Face contorted with rage as he bends all the world's energies to his will, using them to hold down Ozai and put the fear of God into him before taking his bending away.  
Taking a few deep breaths, Aang closes his eyes for a moment before sitting back down in his chair. Zuko wasn't like Katara. He didn't have her natural intuitiveness and had never been one for semantics and flowery language when it came to talking. It wasn’t fair of him to expect Zuko to read his mind.

A small part of Zuko wants to just let Aang finish. Wants to pour him another drink and keep the discussion of geopolitics going so he can feel some of that same helplessness and fear his father had. It hadn’t been his intention to make Aang mad, truly, but now he’d gotten him there...the part of him that still felt shame for his attraction to the air bender wanted to use that anger. Use it to simplify this whole thing they had going on.

"I was hoping you would just kind of...understand what I was feeling without me having to say it aloud", Aang begins, “I’ve been trying to be affectionate with you all night hoping at some point you’d return it. You told me months ago when we were alone...flying back to the Western air temple on Appa...that you wanted me. Do you feel that way still?” 

Zuko sits back in his chair, reaching up to pull the front of his robes open a bit. Just to let a little air in. The baiju was making him feel hot and sleepy. He closes his eyes, sighing softly. Just sitting for a moment in quiet reflection. Thinking on how best to respond to Aang’s query.   
It comes to him an awkward couple of minutes later, and when he opens his eyes again, Aang is close, having stood up again. Close enough he can feel the heat radiating from his body. 

He looks down at him with such longing in his silvery-grey eyes that Zuko can’t not pull him to him, wrapping his arms around Aang’s narrow waist and dragging him into his lap. Positioning him so they face one another.

“Of course I still want you. How could I not?”, he whispers, pressing his face into the crook of Aang’s neck. He smelled good. Like rain on a hot summer's day at Ember Island. 

Aang leans back a bit, lowering his face to Zuko’s, lips fluttering shyly over the others as he speaks. There’s a tinge of sadness in his voice...uncertainty. “But your duty to your nation makes you feel conflicted?” 

Bringing his hands up, Zuko cups Aang’s face, brushing his thumbs gently over rounded, flushed cheeks. Aang’s eyes slide shut yet again and he kisses Zuko’s wrist. Giving him more of that yet unreciprocated affection.

“It’s not the only thing”, Zuko responds leaning forward as Aang leans back, peering down at him, searching for something in the depths of his golden eyes. Lips pursing when it seems he can’t find what he’s looking for. “Confliction isn’t hesitance though, Aang. Let’s talk about that later. Okay?”

Fingers tangling in the cloth of his robes, Zuko pulls Aang as close to him as he can. A hunger he didn’t know he had overtaking him as he crushes his mouth to the soft, pliant one hovering inches away. 

They stay like that for a long time. Wrapped around each other in an armless wicker chair, Aang’s legs dangling off to the side. Hands curled around dark, soft piles of Zuko’s untethered hair. Tongue and teeth being brought to bare on the pale flesh of the Fire Lord’s neck. There was just a little bit of a mustache and beard beginning to grow in, and Aang likes the feel of the stubble scraping him as they kiss. 

Zuko whisper’s apologies in his ear for this and for that, and everytime Aang shakes his head at him. Biting him sharply on the lip or grinding down onto the very obvious erection he had to shut him up. 

“I just don’t know how far to take this”, Zuko whispers, as if there is someone around to hear them, and laughing softly Aang reaches down in between them and unties the sash that holds his hanfu closed. Then begins to rub his hands up and down the expanse of Zuko’s bare chest.

Zuko’s hands hold his hips. Thumbs slid underneath the orange fabric, tracing circles into his skin. Making his thighs clench pleasurably whenever they pushed down farther, gliding over the muscles of Aang’s lower abdomen. 

“As far as we feel like we want to I guess”, is Aang’s answer, and Zuko frowns a bit when he feels his hanfu fall down past his shoulders, not too thrilled about being the most exposed one thus far. Aang wraps his lips around one of Zuko’s nipples and for a moment it’s as if fire works have been set off in his brain, the feeling of the other man’s tongue on such a sensitive area of his body wiping away the rest of the doubts he’d been having.

“Agni...please keep doing that…”,he moans, and Aang obliges, sucking harder, bringing up a hand to roll the other between his thumb and forefinger. Zuko’s skin tastes like sweat, baiju and something purely him. Something spicy almost and Aang lets out a few little moans of his own as he continues to suck on and grind on Zuko. 

Zuko grows bolder with each second that passes—hands coming down to massage the globes of Aang’s ass, pushing himself up into him. Following the rhythm of his hips with his own. Feeling himself begin to grow sticky as pre-cum beads at the head of his cock and begins to drip. Gripping him hard enough at the waist to bruise, Zuko allows himself a few shameless moments of rutting up into Aang’s taught rear, knocking the Air bender off balance and forcing him to pull his mouth from his chest. The smaller of the two wraps his arms around the others neck and allows himself to be bounced. Enjoying the building friction between them. 

“Zu-ko wait--stop--don’t--nnn!”, is all Aang can get out, the words coming out as garbled, muffled, pants he’s too aroused to try too hard to decipher. 

Just cumming in his pants...dick rubbing back and forth in between Aang’s ass cheeks seems like a fine way to finish to him. Until his ears pick up the sound of Aang moaning ‘stop’, and ‘don’t’ and with a shudder, he does, looking down into an equally lusty pair of eyes. 

“Did I hurt you? ”, Zuko asks, and Aang shakes his head no, pressing his forehead against Zuko’s chest for a moment to catch his breath.

Feeling greedy now he’d mostly been given the greenlight Zuko pulls at the sash holding Aang’s pants and top together, other hand rubbing up and down his back underneath his kashya as he waits for him to speak.

“M’ not hurt”, he says, after about a minute or so, “I just wanted you to stop for a bit so we could...maybe and try and move past dry humping. If you want to, that is.”

“Yeah. Absolutely, but...I should tell you...I don’t...have a lot of experience in this...area.”

Aang blinks, and looks up, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve only ever um...been with a woman before.”

“You mean technically you’ve only ever been with a woman.”

“I don’t think making out in Appa’s saddle one time counts, Aang.”

“It does a little”, Aang says smiling, kissing Zuko’s chin and sliding out of his lap. He pulls away the bits and pieces of his clothing Zuko had loosened, folding them and laying them and his chair on the other side of the table. Then slips off his shoes, sighing at the feel of the cool, stone floor on his feet. 

Zuko follows suit, standing and letting his hanfu slide the rest of the way down his arms. Keeping his eyes on Aang all the while as he undresses himself. Afraid...as Katara had always said he was, of him suddenly disappearing somehow. Moonlight filters in through the shuttered windows, and that, coupled with the waning light from the lamp they’d lit when they came in, makes it easy to see the reddish brown, circular scar in the upper center of Aang’s back. A reminder of their shared past.

The ugly parts.

‘I don’t deserve you’, Zuko thinks to himself as he watches Aang slip his way out of his pants and turn to him, stark naked. The hint of a smile on his lips as he beckons him to him, wrapping a hand around his wrist and leading him to the back of the shop, pushing open the door to the back kitchen. 

It’s dark, the inky blackness hiding the smallness of the space, but they make it around easily enough, using their fire bending to light the way. Only one of them having any idea what they’re searching for, Zuko continues to allow Aang to lead him around, looking up when finally he stops in front of something. Watching him reach up onto a shelf and pull off a jar of coconut oil his Uncle used for the days he felt like baking. 

He didn’t have a lot of experience...but he knew enough offhandedly to know what that was for, reaching to grab it when they were back out in the main room. Aang moves his hand out of reach, the small smile on his face morphing into a smirk as he screws the top off and jerks his head in the direction of the table. 

“Oh..you want me to…?”, Zuko begins, face reddening, and Aang nods.

“Mhm. Up you get.”

Zuko has questions--feels like he should be asking them. Especially now as he scoots himself backwards over the table and lies down on his back. Picking his legs up and draping them over Aang’s narrow shoulders. He moves the lamp a bit further away, but turns up the flame, thinking Aang would need extra light for what he was about to do, Zuko watching him as he dips his fingers into the jar and places it on the table. 

Bringing his hand down, Aang traces slick fingers around his entrance. The tight ring of muscle clenching reflexively at the small amount of pressure he applies to it. 

“Just relax Zuko”, Aang says, and Zuko lets out a breath, curling his hands over his stomach. Weirdly embarrassed at the sight of his own length pointing up at him, the tip glistening. Relaxing had never been a specialty of his. So he opts for distraction instead, watching Aang as he works between his legs. One hand caressing his thigh as he pushes gently, slowly inside of him with the other. 

That Aang would want to take charge in this way surprises Zuko. As does the obvious enthusiasm in his eyes as he fucks him with that single finger. Eyes that look up and down the length of his body as he does so. Appreciation for what he sees plain on his face. The image of the sainted and holy young man he was used to dissipates and warps into something else. Something a little less tame, a little more dangerous. 

“So hot..”, Aang whispers, just loud enough for Zuko to hear, and that’s when he notices Aang going back into the jar of coconut oil. Bringing it to bear on himself, pumping his hand slowly up and down the length of his cock which Zuko can only just see if he picks his head up.

The finger inside him, after another moment, loses some of the uncomfortable burn and Aang is able to push deeper. Down to the knuckle and that, coupled with the obvious want of him in his eyes makes Zuko moan. Spread his legs a little wider to give Aang room to work, biting his lip in anticipation of the second finger. Shivering when he feels it slide in next to the other, walls clenching briefly around it.

“Aang...you don’t have to wait. It’s fine”, Zuko offers, voice low, somewhere between a whine and a moan. He brings a hand down to his own needy cock, rolling his thumb over the tip. It feels good being opened up like this. Having something inside him. Better than he expected and the newness of it...the arousal makes him want to push forward. To do more.

“You can go ahead and fuck me. I can take it”, he says, illustrating his point by rocking his hips down onto Aang’s hand, gasping when he feels the fingers he’s using on him curl slightly, practically arching up off the table when the tips of them graze a sensitive spot inside of him. 

“This part’s...necessary Zuko”, Aang says, pressing a third finger against him, biting his lip. Face a bright shade of red as he watches himself move in and out of the man spread out beneath him. Third finger penetrating with a little more difficulty than the first two. He wants to take Zuko up on his offer, but he knows from experience that won’t work here. Not this first time, and so he waits, playing his fingers against Zuko’s prostate. Watching him squirm, and moan and beg until finally he feels it’s the right time.

After what seems an eternity, Aang replaces his fingers with his cock, pressing himself against Zuko’s entrance, eyes closed, mouth falling open in a silent ‘o’ as he pushes forward. Feeling himself being wrapped in a tight heat.

“Don’t hold back...”, Zuko pleads with Aang again and this time, he obliges. Gripping Zuko at the waist and pulling him down fully onto him, a feeling that for a moment leaves them both speechless. 

Aang pushes Zuko’s hands away from his cock holding them at his sides as he fucks him. Watching as his flushed member bobs up and down in time with his thrusts. Precum leaking down the length of it. Wishing it were possible to give blow jobs and fuck someone at the same time. He settles for just holding him there, going at a moderate pace, not wanting it to end too quickly.

Zuko doesn’t make keeping pace easy though as he’s anything but still, doing his best to meet and match Aang’s thrusts. The sound of skin on skin and the table creaking as they go on echoing throughout the room. Zuko’s sharp golden eyes stare challengingly up at him, mouth open just enough for him to be able to hear the light panting coming from it. 

“Harder…”, he says, voice trembling, a depth of feeling behind it Aang can’t quite interpret. Patience for a slow, steady pace waning, Aang accepts Zuko’s challenge. 

His own expression hardens as he pulls out of him without warning and flips him over onto his stomach with a bit of air bending. Finding purchase when he feels his feet hit the floor, Zuko backs into him as much as he’s able, grinding into the stiff, oil slicked cock that Aang wastes no time getting back into him. Putting his hand into Zuko’s upper back, he pushes him down roughly, a grunt escaping him when his chest thunks against the wood of the table. There’s a burning sensation as Aang rakes heated fingernails down the length of his back, leaving a series of thin, red lines from the middle of his back to just above his rear, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of his hair when Zuko arches back in response. Holding him there and forcing him to hold himself up in an awkward position. Fingertips pressing into the surface of the table, arms just a bit too short to lay his palms flat. 

“So you like it rough, your highness?”, comes Aang’s voice a minute later, the word ‘rough’ punctuated by a violent reentry, the mixture of pain and pleasure making Zuko whimper.   
Zuko’s bangs stick to his head with sweat. Mouth held firmly closed in an attempt to keep from making too much noise. ‘As if’, he thinks to himself for the millionth time, ‘There’s anyone around to hear me anyway.’ 

“There’s something you’re not saying. Something you wanna tell me...”,Aang continues, Zuko’s knees buckling in response to his savage thrusts, the head of his cock brushing against his prostate every few strokes. The position he’s in doesn’t allow him access to his own aching member and he’s desperate...so desperate for Aang to touch him there that all he does is cry out in response.

“For Agni’s sake touch me! I can’t--!”

“Talk to me Zuko”, Aang growls, and Zuko feels his cock jump between his legs in response. It was such an uncharacteristic sound coming from someone like him. Someone who was supposed to be so soft and good. 

Aang brings one of his hands down, laying it teasingly, tortuously close to where Zuko wants it to be. It’s enough. He folds immediately, eyes squeezing shut, afraid of seeing himself reflected in the few unshuttered shop windows. 

“It’s more than just like okay?! More than just physical attraction or even love! I don’t just want you--I worship you! You gave me a reason to live when I had none! Forgave all the awful things I did to you…”

Zuko’s voice starts, but Aang doesn’t ease up his thrusting. Doesn’t let go of the hair at the back of his head. He pulls harder, yanking almost as he wraps his hand around Zuko’s near bursting member, his own release imminent. Zuko’s name on his lips as his eyes flutter closed.

“It’s more than just admiration Aang--you’re my God!”

“Fuck!”,Aang yells, orgasm cresting. Spurred on by Zuko's unexpected declaration, he continues to slam forcefully into him, pumping his hand up and down the length of Zuko’s cock. Not stopping until he feels him spilling into his hand. 

He hadn’t expected to hear that. And definitely hadn’t expected to enjoy hearing it as much as he did. 

Letting go of Zuko’s hair, he pulls out of him after he lays back over the table, spent, and out of breath. Then goes to grab some napkins from a nearby dispenser to clean his hands with. Placing some on the table for Zuko too, a wave of exhaustion overtakes him as he walks back over to him, laying his hands on Zuko’s back and examining the damage he’d done there. 

“Are you okay?”, he asks, looking over at the still reasonably frosty baiju bottle and wondering if he can use the contents to heal the scratches he’d given him. 

Zuko’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily. It takes him a moment to answer, and when he does, it’s in the form of a question.

“Do turtleducks quack?” 

“You’re stupid, get up!”, Aang laughs, swatting him on the ass, tossing his clothes at him when he does so. 

The smile on Zuko’s face was enough of a reassurance for him in the moment, and when they are clothed again and stumbling their way out of the Jasmine Dragon, it’s Aang’s turn to pose a question. Reaching out to take Zuko’s hand in his as they begin the short walk back to his cottage. He turns to him, silver-grey eyes meeting gold, an expression of utmost seriousness on his face as they near the stoop of Zuko’s guesthouse, their chosen temporary respite for the night.

They would have to talk to Katara about tonight, Aang reflects as he and Zuko flop down onto his bed together, leaving the covers off due to the stifling summer heat. Maybe, just maybe...they’d both be in a good enough mood in the morning to meet for breakfast. 

End


End file.
